


First Dip in the Pot

by zimmer2d



Series: The Honey Pot Series [1]
Category: Gorillaz, Studio Killers (Band)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Comfort/Angst, Drug Use, F/M, Marijuana, Strippers & Strip Clubs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-13
Updated: 2016-09-13
Packaged: 2018-08-14 18:21:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8024248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zimmer2d/pseuds/zimmer2d
Summary: 2D's been having these odd flashbacks... What could they mean? What's was her name...?





	1. So It Begins...

**Author's Note:**

> So...my first Gorillaz fic. Please be kind lol! I have a certain way I want to tell this story, so bear with me, guys! Enjoy!
> 
> Oh, and canon characters belong to their respective owners. Don't sue me.

_Drive away…_

_As in lonesome south…_

_Like a real straight shooter…_

_Three lanes full…_

_“C’mon Tussey!”_

_Stuart chased after her, a smile stretched across his face. He followed her across the empty street to the hedges that lined the curb._

_“Make sure no one’s watching,” she said. Stuart kept his eye out for any random watchers while she searched around for the opening. It wasn’t so much as making sure no one found their secret spot as it was making sure the neighborhood boys weren’t craning their necks to see up her skirt as she crawled around in the dirt._

_“Aven’t yew found it yet?” he asked her. There were a group of neighborhood boys coming up on the left. Tony McPhenton’s lot. They were the worst. They made it their life mission to torment her because she was…different. And because Stuart hung out with her, he wouldn’t be spared the same fate._

_“No, Tussey, I haven’t,” she groaned, “but it shouldn’t be too much farther.”_

_“It’s Tony’s lot,” Stuart kicked at her ankle, keeping his head straight and reminding himself that she was wearing her school skirt. “Move it along, wouldn’ yew?” Tony and his crew were getting closer. He could hear their obnoxious laughter even though they were a good few meters away._

_“Found it!” she called to him. She grabbed his knobby ankle and yanked him into the brush, then clamped her hand over his mouth to muffled the little surprised yelp that came from him. Stuart watched as five pairs of feet walked by the bushes, talking and swearing happily until they faded away._

_“Took yew long enough,” he said once she released his face._

_“Sorry. The brush is a bit thicker than usual. C’mon,” she turned and began crawling through the little tunnel she had dug, not particularly minding the fact that she was still in her school skirt with Stuart following closely behind her, blushing furiously and keeping his eyes focused on the dirt. They crawled through a little farther and the light began to grow brighter._

_“Why ‘aven’t we jus’ marked the way to this place anyway?”_

_“You don’t want to let the whole world know where it is, do you?” she said as she pulled him through to their secret place. The sun was beginning to set on the horizon of the little stretch of land that seemed to be abandoned and untouched. There was a tall oak tree with a couple of low branches leaning majestically downward, but well out of 8-year-old Stuart’s reach. She went over to the bush to the right of the tunnel. Digging around, she produced a large plastic bin and pulled out a very obviously homemade quilt and laid it out under the tree. She patted the space next to her._

_“C’mon, sit with me, Tussey!”_

_Stuart sat next to her, leaning against the trunk of the tree. He listened to her joke and laugh with him. A little bit of breeze was blowing today; it ruffled Stuart’s hair…and hers._

_Stuart looked over at her, like he hadn’t seen her a million times before. Her face was a freckly brown, and was always somewhat hidden behind her bangs, and beyond them, white, gauzy bandages that covered her right eye, and her left eye was such a golden color he often wondered if it were even real. “Wha’s ‘appened to your eye?” he asked her again, “I forge’.”_

_She gave him a half smirk. “I told you a hundred times, Tussey, I have a sickness that messes up my eye. It looks really bad and I’m a little blind.”_

_“Oh. Righ’,” Stuart said. He went over to the plastic bin and pulled out a deck of cards and began shuffling them…_

 

“Oi! _OI_! Faceache!”

 

Murdoc’s voice broke its way through 2D’s subconscious like a wrecking ball. 2D snapped out of his high, mumbling angrily to himself.

 

“Wake _up_ , you useless lump! We’re almost there.” Murdoc licked his thin lips hungrily, his body hunched over the steering wheel as he hauled ass in the Stylo.

 

2D peered out of the window, “Wuz goin’ on?” They were getting closer to a rather ramshackle building that he knew was The Candy Bar. A few thoughts occurred to him like they did any other time:

 

‘ _Why the bloody ‘ell do I even ask?_ ’ Murdoc went to The Candy Bar almost every week since it opened. It was so routine that even 2D was painfully aware, and had even gone through the trouble of preparing a ritual of zonking out prior to, if not to avoid Murdoc’s disgusting, monotonous pick-ups. Well, at least Russel came this time…

 

‘ _Wha’-WHA’- am I doin’ in a car with Mudz…again?_ ’ To think 2D would’ve learned by now…

 

 _‘I wonder if she’ll be there?_ ’ It was a given that anywhere that Murdoc Niccals wanted to go or was expected to be, 2D was supposed to be there. The Candy Bar was no different. But somehow, he found a bit of solstice in going with Mudz as long as _she_ was dancing.

 

Murdoc pulled into a parking space, jumped out, and slammed the door of the old, dilapidated car shut. Russel peeled himself out of the front passenger seat.

 

“Wait,” 2D grumbled as he unfolded his lanky legs out of the car from the backseat. Something was missing…or someone. “Where’s Noodle?”

 

“Wasn’t you payin’ attention?” Russel growled his usual low growl, “She went to that new karaoke bar. Said she hated going to titty bars with a couple of old guys and Mudz. Can’t say I blame her. Old guys I can take. Mudz on the other hand…” 2D tried to wrack his brain to remember the conversation prior to getting in the car, but all he remembered was about three or four pills, a spliffy, and a pint before finding himself in the backseat of the Stylo.

 

He followed Russel and Murdoc into the smoky bar. He dug into his pockets and extracted a pair of dark sunglasses, shoved them on his face, then adjusted his beanie to cover his azure hair. He was stoned, but coherent; like the light was on, but nobody was home. He hated having people talk to him when he was like this, asking about new albums and whatnot. He didn’t want to be recognized (not that it mattered since Murdoc and Russel were just as easily recognizable). He didn’t want to be asked this and that; he couldn’t answer them if he wanted to. All he wanted was to sit and watch his dancer.

 

“Evenin’ Miss Sugar.” Murdoc stopped at the hostess counter, looking at the half dressed blonde over with overwhelming lust. The woman had so obviously been under the knife so many times, no one was for sure of her real age or if there was any skin left to pull.

 

“Oh, Murdoc,” she smiled(?) at them, “the usual Sundae I take it?”

 

“You know me so well,” Murdoc simpered, holding her hand in a flirtatious manner. 2D could feel his stomach churn. Not particularly good for the mix of drugs he’d ingested earlier.

 

“And for you, big fella?” she asked of Russel.

 

“None for me, Sugar” he grunted, “I’ll just be kickin’ it at the bar tonight.” And with that, Russel moseyed over to the bar and took a seat.

 

“What about you, handsome?” she directed at 2D.

 

“M-me? Oh, um…”

 

“He don’t need nothin’.” Murdoc interrupted, “The faceache’s just gonna just sit quietly, there’s a good lad.” He patted 2D’s head the way one might pat their dog on the head.

 

2D scowled at Murdoc’s back as Sugar led them to their usual booth. Just as they sat down, three very young, very attractive girls surrounded Murdoc in the small booth. A fair skinned blonde with the word ‘Vanilla’ etched across a nametag on her skimpy shorts was followed by a pale redhead named ‘Strawberry’, and dark skinned, curly haired young woman dubbed ‘Coco’; each of them eyed Murdoc with blatant lust (and tears from stench of his rotting flesh) in their eyes.

 

2D settled himself in a rickety chair (as the ladies had taken over the rest of the booth to drool over Mudz), adjusting his sunglasses as he watched the woman dancing on the stage, though he wasn’t really watching. He stared off into space, thinking about the little girl in his dream before. He remembered her face, but…

 

‘ _What was her name_?’

 

He sat deeper in thought than usual, but once again, his concentration was broken; this time by applause and cheers from the crowd around him.

 

“Ugh, I don’t see what makes Honey so popular,” Strawberry grumbled, “she’s nothing special.”

 

“Well she _is_ a fair dancer,” Coco shrugged, “She’s got a good amount of tits and ass. Besides, there’s a bit of mystery to her, isn’t it?”

 

“A bit. But otherwise, Honey’s such a bore,” Vanilla added, but she focused her words at Murdoc, though he didn’t seem to be listening. He watched the stage like the other lust-driven patrons, awaiting Honey’s performance.

 

2D was with them; it was all he wanted in the first place; to watch Honey hypnotize him into oblivion so that when he popped another few pills later on that night, she would be the last thing he remembered.

 

The music played and Honey made her entrance. She did have T and A for days, and she could swing around a pole like she was lighter than air itself. But as 2D watched her, he was happily lost in her mystery. She kept a slight smirk on her lips and her head seemed to stay down, like her beautiful face was some kind of secret. Her long black hair shrouded all but her left eye, which was unusually blue and seemed to pierce right through the soul. 2D looked on, a goofy sort of daze on his face, wondering about her. But to his displeasure, his awestruck wonderment was cut short as she finished her routine and disappeared behind the stage.

 

“Don’t worry, love. She’ll be back later.”

 

2D shook himself and faced his addressor. A short, curvy woman stood next to him balancing a tray of beverages on her tiny hand. Her makeup seemed to drip around her eyes like paint, but somehow tastefully so. She handed him a pint with a tiny smile.

 

“Oh, fanks Cherry,” he took his drink and gulped it down to about a third full. “’Ow’s business today?”

 

“Could be better, I suppose. I just had the worst--,”

 

“Cherry, _darling_!” Murdoc scrambled across the booth, scooting past Strawberry and Vanilla with sour looks on their faces for being abandoned so suddenly. “What a perfect sundae I’ve got tonight.”

 

“Murdoc.” Cherry grunted stiffly. Her smile fell into a grimace as she set the tray of drinks on the table and placed each bottle that the bassist required every night onto it. Murdoc knelt down to Cherry’s level, taking her free hand before she could fill it with 2D’s now empty mug.

 

“Why so uptight, lovely?” Murdoc purred. Cherry turned her nose up at him as 2D fought to keep himself from laughing. “Come, take a load off and--,”

 

“I’m on the clock, Mudz,” Cherry slipped her hand free of Murdoc’s pathetically flirtatious hand and grabbed 2D’s mug with unnecessary force. She turned to 2D, “ _That_ was the worst customer I’ve had all night.” She winked at him, gave him little smirk and proceeded to the bar to refill his glass.

 

“Real smoove, Mudz,” 2D chuckled, which only earned him a slap to the back of his head by Murdoc as he sidled back into the booth between his sugary delights.

 

“Weren’t you supposed to be quiet?” groaned Murdoc. 

 

The night wore on in a similar fashion. Honey performed once or twice more, Cherry would refill their drinks, and Murdoc would attempt and fail at getting Cherry’s undivided attention. Eventually, Russel joined them, a little more tossed than before, bringing with him three more sweets, so to speak. And 2D just sat in his chair alone. If he wasn’t focusing on Honey, he was trying to remember the little girl from his dream. Later, the group headed back to Wobble Street by cab as none of them were well enough to drive the rust bucket Stylo (which was towed back at Murdoc’s expense) and 2D loaded up on sleeping pills and passed out where he stood.


	2. Three Weeks Later...

“ _Tussey? Come on, we really shouldn’t--”_

_“Oh c’mon, don’ be chicken--,”_

_“I’m not chicken, Tussey!” she stomped her foot at Stuart, but followed him anyway. Stuart had convinced her to skive off from her afternoon classes to go their secret place and smoke. She looked apprehensive at first, but Stuart promised that if they got caught, he would say it was his idea (which it was)._

_She found the opening again, (at least today she wore tights under her romper) and the pair crawled through to the shady oak tree on the other side. Stuart dug into his pockets and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit up. He passed her the pack and she did the same. “Y’know, we could put a swing ‘ere.” Stuart gazed up at the low branches, trying to picture a wooden swing hanging from the boughs of the gnarled old tree. “Be nice to not sit on the ground all the time.”_

_“Ok. So where are we gonna get the rope and wood, then?” she asked._

_Stuart thought for a second as he drew a puff of his cigarette. “I bet Dad’s got some stuff lyin’ ‘round the grounds. We could make it wiv tha’, yew fink?”_

_She nodded in agreement, “See what you can get and we’ll build it this weekend.” She leaned against Stuart’s shoulder and puffed away._

_The weekend finally came and the two of them had several planks, drills, hammers and nails, and lengths of rope to make a swing large enough for the two of them to sit on. “You’re taller,” she said as they finished tying secure knots on the bottom planks, “you should climb up and tie the rope.”_

_“I’m not tha’ much taller,” Stuart laughed, but even as he said so, he towered over her by nearly a foot. “I’m on’y 11; Mum says I won’ ‘ave a growf spur’ ‘til la’er.”_

_“You’re still taller, Tussey,” she smirked at him, “Go on, don’t be chicken. Anyways, I’m wearing a skirt.”_

_“Alrigh’, fine,” Stuart scaled the side of the tree trunk, the end of the thick rope tucked into his belt loop to free his hands. “Where d’you wan’ it?” he called down to her._

_“That branch there,” she pointed to a branch just above her. Stuart scoot along the branch and secured the knot. “Here’s the other one,” she called holding up the rope._

_It was then that it happened._

_As Stuart reached down, the branch began to splinter underneath him and, with his full weight on it, snapped in two, sending Stuart barreling to the ground and knocking him unconscious. The last thing he heard or saw was her standing over him with fear in her only visible eye, frantically yelling “Tussey!” and the sky going dark._

 

2D woke up from his dream again to Murdoc’s demonic shouting down the hallway. “Wha’ the _bloody ‘ell_ is he goin’ on abou’ now?” he muttered to himself. He tossed back the blankets, noting the horrible migraine that he’d suffered last night was back with a vengeance, and threw on a pair of pants before opening his bedroom door.

 

“That slimy bint!” Murdoc wailed. “She made off with the lot, she did! Fucking… _argh_!”

 

“Wuz goin’ on?” 2D yawned as Murdoc passed by him in his tiger underwear that he only reserved for the most honored of ‘guests’.

 

“Sono noizu wa nanida ittai nodesu ka? _What the fuck is all that noise?”_ came a very disgruntled Noodle across the hall. 2D could only guess that she had been in a very deep sleep as she was only in an oversized t-shirt and a pair of unusually girly yellow panties, her hair much more disheveled than usual. But for her to be awakened by Murdoc’s shouting…someone was going to pay very dearly.

 

“Looks like one of his ‘ores made off with sumfin’,” 2D said to her. Noodle glared down the hall to Murdoc as he went on ranting about whatever he had missing.

 

“Good thing Russel’s on the top floor,” Noodle mumbled as she went back into her room and returned with a green umbrella, “he’d be dead by now. I wouldn’t get a chance at him.” She marched right over to Murdoc and in one swift movement brought it down on Mudz’ head to silence him. 2D didn’t stay to listen to the argument of angry Japanese curses and Murdoc’s pitiful pleading for her to stop. Frankly, he didn’t care. Murdoc would forget after a few hours anyway and buy another whatever it was.

 

2D sat on his bed and glanced at the little digital clock that was covered in an odd assortment of socks, cigarette packs, and medicine bottles. It was 1:30 in the afternoon. Much too early. He sat thinking again…

 

‘ _What the hell is her name?_ ’

 

This had to be the third time this week. It wasn’t until he and the others moved into this shitty little house that the dreams started popping up. He knew he’d seen her face before, and he knew that it had to be someone from his past that he was somewhat close to, but when it came to figuring out her name, 2D was at a complete loss. He pondered the thought a little more before Noodle returned, knocking on the door with her (now broken) umbrella. “Coffee?” she asked him, more nonchalant than he expected after beating Murdoc within an inch of his remaining sanity.

 

“Sure,” 2D agreed. He grabbed up a random t-shirt from the floor, scrambled into it, and followed Noodle to the kitchen.

 

“You’ve been lost in thought quite a bit lately, Two-san,” she said as she poured him a cup of steaming hot coffee, “a penny for your thoughts?”

 

“I dunno, Noods,” he began as she set milk and sugar on the table in front of him before filling her mug also, “I’ve been ‘avin’ these kinda flashbacks of a girl I used to know.”

 

“You do know you can always _call_ Paula,” Noodle smirked. She was the only person permitted to talk about Paula in the house. “It’s probably time you two talked about--,”

 

“It’s _not_ Paula,” 2D cut across Noodle, a bit of venom in his voice that didn’t go unnoticed. Noodle didn’t say anything, but waited for him to continue as she busied herself with making toast. “S’another girl; a girl I grew up with. I can see ‘er face and I know I remember ‘er, I jus’ can’ fink of ‘er name and it’s drivin’ me ba'shit crazy.” Even as he said so, the faint throbbing in his temple began to pulse, which didn’t make matters any better.

 

“Think it may be someone you went to school with? Maybe you just have some unresolved feelings for her. Or perhaps you hated her,” Noodle shrugged and placed a plate of toast on the table and sat with him. “I’m sorry, I don’t really have a fortune cookie solution for this.”

 

“’S alright,” 2D smiled at her. He couldn’t stay mad at her if he tried. “Gave Mudz a good talkin’ to, did yew?” Noodle grinned back and began buttering her toast.

 

Later that same day (as expected), Murdoc was back to his usual, gruesome self. It turned out that the ‘lady’ he brought home had ‘taken’ a rare set of Tarot cards that Mudz had gotten as a gift from a gypsy some years back, and a very expensive bottle of champagne from France, only to find that the cards weren’t stolen (or rare as Noodle found them on Amazon for dirt cheap), but lodged behind the headboard of his bed after he offered to ‘read her’ sometime before or after polishing off the two champagne glasses from an expensive, empty bottle in the bathroom. The entire story only resulted in a disbelieving glare from 2D and another wallop with a foreign object from Noodle, followed by more Japanese swearing. Also, as expected, Murdoc decided to celebrate by treating the gang at The Candy Bar.

 

“We get so few celebrations in life,” he said into the mirror by the stairs, “so let’s celebrate while we can. Life’s too short, y’know.”

 

“Coming from a century old pickle,” Noodle grumbled. 2D snorted into his beer with Russel chuckling next to him. “I’m skipping this one Mudz,” Noodle continued, “I think I’ll develop a mental complex or new strain of HIV if I go.”

 

“Perfect idea,” Murdoc clapped his hands in that menacing way that 2D always associated with trouble brewing, “wouldn’t want our sweet little Noodle exposed to such a lifestyle. Probably best you don’t. You’d cramp our style anyway.”

 

“What style?” Noodle looked up from the game on her phone. Even 2D and Russel exchanged confused glances. Since when did Murdoc have style?

 

“Can’t bring a little bright eyed kid to such a place, can you?”

 

“Well, she’s not exactly ‘ _little’_ , Mudz,” 2D frowned, “She’s almost 26 now. The girls at the bar are prob’ly younger than ‘er.”

 

“Yeah, she ain’t 10 no more. Besides, we’ve dragged her to worse places.” Russel reached over to his ‘Baby Girl’ and ruffled her already tousled hair with a small smile. “And by ‘we’, I mean ‘you’.”

 

“Like where?” Murdoc snickered. “What sort of person do you think I am?”

 

“Well, s’not like Kong Studios wuz a safe place,” 2D recounted, “Or a flyin’ island…”

 

“Or the Harriet,” Russel added fixing an incredulous glare at Murdoc, “and it ain’t like Plastic Beach was good for her neither. Plus, you replaced her with a blood-thirsty robot.”  


“Oh, and let’s not forget that _little_ stint in Hell,” Noodle smirked sarcastically. “Remember? The four years I spent there wasn’t what I would call a fun family holiday.”

 

“Well you clearly aren’t _dead_ , so I’d say you made out for the better!” Murdoc smiled gleefully. “All the more reason to celebrate! Just not with us.” Noodle only gave him a scornful glare before storming outside swearing in her native tongue under her breath.

 

2D popped another Xanax for good measure before going to get dressed. As he sat in the living room waiting for Murdoc and Russel, he slowly slipped out of consciousness and the dreams began again…

 

_Stuart walked through the halls with his cap secured to his head. It had finally all grown back, but it was such an odd color. Several times since the accident he would shave off whatever grew out of his head. Many of the other kids wondered if he’d developed cancer, others thought he’d lost a bet. In either case, he didn’t want to draw attention to himself on the first day of his high school life._

_“Stuart Pot!” A shrill voice screeched down the hallway, heard by all even above the din of idle student chatter. A formidable and severe looking woman swooped down on Stuart, ruler in hand. “And just what do you think you’re doing, young man?” she loomed over him like a vulture, waiting for his last breath._

_“N-nuffink Mrs. Wellingsly,” he stammered._

_“You know better than to wear caps inside the school! Take it off!” Stuart hesitated with his hand over the brim of his cap. He could feel every eye in the hallway on him. “Well?” Mrs. Wellingsly held her hand out for his cap._

_Stuart didn’t have a choice. The entire hallway was silent as he slipped the cap off and his unruly blue hair was revealed to everyone around him. He heard the whispers as he stared at the ground. “What kind of madness have you gotten into over the summer, Pot?” Mrs. Wellingsly blustered, “Dying your hair such an unnatural color! Well, we’ll just see what your parents think about this!”_

_Stuart followed the crabby teacher into the administrative office, only to find that there was someone already there. And her hair was as unnaturally blue as his! Stuart sat next to her and waited as Mrs. Wellingsly went to rant and rave at the head teacher about ‘these hooligans’ in his office. “Wha’ yew do to your ‘air?” he asked her._

_“You said your mum told you that you can’t keep shaving it off, so I dyed mine too.” She smiled at him beyond her sapphire bangs that seemed to have gotten longer over the summer, even though she had cut her curly hair to nearly boyishly short. Her gauzy bandages stayed the same, except for the faded streaks from the hair dye. Her left eye was as gold as ever._

_Stuart felt an unfamiliar warmness in his cheeks. She frowned at him, “Tussey, are you ok?” she asked. She put a hand to his forehead, “Your face is all red. Are you getting sick?”_

_“N-no, jus’ a bit nervous, I guess. Wha’, wiv me mum comin’ down and all…” he said to her, though he couldn’t figure out why he was blushing so much. It wasn’t like he’d never seen her; they practically lived together the entire summer while her parents were away. But there was something different about her now. She was taller and…hippier. And a bit rounder in certain places that Stuart never thought to look before now._

_After a few minutes, Mrs. Pot was in the office explaining Stuart’s unique situation regarding his new look. Shortly afterward he was released to class. “And you, young lady,” Mrs. Wellingsly spat at her, “since your family is unreachable and you are in the care of the Pot’s, Mrs. Pot has explained your situation as well. You’re free to go.”_

_Stuart wheeled around just as she gave Mrs. Wellingsly a surprised look. “Yes ma’am,” she muttered quickly and followed Stuart and Mrs. Pot out of the office.  Once Mrs. Pot had left them alone in the empty halls, she turned to walk toward her locker on the opposite end of the corridor._

_“Um, fanks for…y’know, the ‘air and all,” he said to her. “Yew didn’t ‘ave to do tha’.”_

_“What are friends for, Tussey?” she laughed, though she didn’t turn around to face him. “Besides, if hadn’t told you to go up that tree, you’d have the same brown mop as usual.” She hesitated for a moment as she stood there. Even though he told her over and over that it was just an accident, Stuart knew she blamed herself for what happened to him. “You know, Tussey,” she turned her bandaged eye to him, “you’ve gotten a ton of attention from a lot of the girls around here lately.”_

_“O-oh, ‘ave I?” Stuart blushed again though he was sure she couldn’t see it. “I ‘adn’t noticed. It’s on’y the firs’ day though. They'll prob'ly forge' me name tomorrow.”_

_“Yeah, well…I’ll see you around Tussey.”_

_She walked on to her locker, Stuart watching her a little closer than usual. Not to the solemn way she walked, but the way her body curved and noting the shortness of her skirt. The once gangly legs that rolled around in the dirt as much as Stuart had in their childhood appeared more womanly. Even her voice had gone from childish to dignified seemingly overnight…_

 

2D came out of his stupor, again, finding himself sitting backwards in a rickety wooden chair with Murdoc behind him chattering away with his girls, and Russel drinking at the bar. “Why so gloomy, love?” Cherry placed 2D’s beer on the table behind him, a worried expression on her painted face. “You don’t seem like yourself.”

 

“’S nuffink, really,” 2D lied, “jus’ comin’ out of me zone, as it were.” He felt a bit more buzzed than usual, though he couldn't remember drinking or taking anything other than what he took at home. That wasn't to say that Mudz and Rus didn't help him along while he was out of it.

 

Cherry put her tiny hand against his head. “You feel a bit warm, darling.” She glanced around him and saw several empty mugs and shot glasses closer to 2D than anyone. “Let’s get you some place cool and quiet. C’mon.”  2D stood awkwardly, adjusting his beanie and sunglasses, and stumbled drunkenly after Cherry to a small private room that was refreshingly cooler than the rest of the bar. “You should be fine here for an hour or so. Just give me a shout if you need anything.”

 

“Ac’ually, some wa’er wouldn’ ‘urt,” he groaned. There was a particularly nasty headache brewing in his dented skull and he just didn’t think he could handle it in this state. Cherry nodded and slid the door shut. 2D dug into his pocket, but all that was there was pocket lint and, for whatever reason, a Mexican peso. He checked his other pockets, but found nothing. “Fuckin’ ‘ _ell_ …” he groaned and buried his face in his hands. Of all the days…

 

The door opened and closed after a few seconds. “Cherry, love, d’yew mind asking Rus— _oh_!” he flustered. Who he mistook to be Cherry was…well, not. She was taller and a tad thinner, with long black hair that covered her right eye. Her skin wasn’t fair like Cherry’s, but the very color that transpired into her stage name.

 

“Oh, I didn’t realize I had a customer,” she purred. She approached him in the sexiest of ways; 2D could feel his head imploding.

 

“I-I’m n-not, I fink yew’ve got—oh dear God,” 2D stuttered as Honey straddled his lap. She took his trembling hands and placed them gently on her supple hips. “ _Oohh_ God…”

 

“Don’t tell me you’re a first-timer?” she whispered in his ear, “It’s ok to touch, y’know.”

 

“I-well…er…” 2D wasn’t sure if he should panic or jump for joy. He spent most of his visits to The Candy Bar wanting to see her, but now that she’s this close, he didn’t know what to do. “I wouldn’ say I’m a firs’-timer…”

 

Just as he said it, a familiar reaction was causing a strain against his already snug-fitting jeans. “ _Oh_ …I guess you are a big boy,” Honey smiled against his ear, making his face turn redder than before. He could feel the tip of her tongue on his earlobe, and a ridiculously stupid grin stretched across his face. Murdoc _did_ say there were so few things to celebrate in life…

 

Despite the headache, 2D focused all his concentration on whatever Honey wanted to do to him. ‘ _She did say it was ok to touch_ ,’ he thought to himself, and let his hands wander around her honeyed skin. He listened to her purr and sigh whenever she approved of whatever he did.

 

“It’s a bit warm in here,” Honey said. 2D just nodded stupidly. “Maybe you’d feel cooler without that hat--,”

 

“Wha—no, _no_! Wait!” 2D blundered, but Honey had already slipped the wool cap off his blue locks with a gasp.

 

“ _No way_ …” she muttered. Honey slowly pulled away his sunglasses and stared disbelievingly at the abyss that were his eyes. “T-Tussey?”

 

That name…he’d been hearing it for months in his dreams. 2D stared back at her, not even sure he should believe what was happening. His blush faded away into shock and surprise, and even now, he was desperately trying to remember her name.

 

“S-Stuart?” she said breathlessly. “Stuart Pot?”

 

“’S me.”

 

Honey scoffed with an awfully familiar smirk, “Don’t you remember me, Tussey?”

 

2D continued to give her a blank stare. Almost deftly, as if to verify for himself that she was real, he reached up to her face, just under her bangs and pushed them aside. There weren’t any gauzy wrappings there, but a plain patch that adhered to her freckly face. Without thinking, he smiled at her. “’Course I do,” he half lied. “I jus’—I can’ believe it! ‘S been ages.”

 

“It has,” she slipped off of him excitedly and pulled him into a standing position, “c’mon, let me look at you!” Honey looked him over, her one blue eye darting all over him and somewhat tearing up as she took him in. “God, you look almost the same.”

 

“Almos’?”

 

“The hair’s still blue, but I thought you might’ve put on a _little_ bit of weight over the years,” she reached up and ruffled his blue hair playfully. 2D grinned, even though she inadvertently made his headache a bit worse.

 

“Well, yew don’ look the same at all,” 2D laughed, though he tried to hide his embarrassment, “Yew do look quite lovely, bu’ I never woulda guessed this would be ‘ow yew turned ou’. Your ‘air is differen’, and I coulda sworn your eye weren’ blue.”

 

“It’s all costume. Just part of the job,” Honey gave him another smirk, but a shy one that also included a little bit of requited awkwardness. Without warning, she wrapped her arms around 2D’s middle and hugged him tightly. “I missed you, Tussey,” she muttered into his chest.

 

“Yeah, I missed yew too,” 2D held her close, decidedly committing everything he was feeling in that moment to memory. A second later, the door opened and closed, this time it was Cherry with a glass of water on her tray.

 

“Sorry, Mudz was—oh!” Cherry stopped dead in her tracks upon seeing them so close, nearly upsetting the glass of water she was carrying. “Oh, Honey, I’m sorry, I thought the room was free.”

 

“It’s alright, Cherry,” Honey said. She pulled away from 2D (trying not to let him see the tear she wiped away from her face) and waved Cherry over. “What _were_ you doing in here, Tussey?” she asked him as an afterthought.

 

“Cherry sent me in here to lie down. Wasn’ feeling too good; she was takin’ good care of me.” 2D explained. He began to feel dizzy and sat back down, “I’m sorry I made yew go frew the trouble, Cherry, but I ain’ got no pills for me headache.”

 

“Oh, well if it’s just a headache, I’m sure I’ve got something.” Honey patted 2D knobby knee and walked out in search of something for him. He stared after her, the stupid grin etched on his face.

 

“Ahem…”

 

2D shook himself out of his daze. Cherry set the water on the table in front of him and quietly walked out, a sneer on her face as she passed Honey when she returned. “What did you do?” Honey squinted her eye at him, putting her hand on her hip.

 

“Nuffink!”

 

“Really?”

 

“ _Really_!”

 

Honey giggled at him, then handed him the two pills she had clutched in her hand. “Hopefully that’ll hold you until you get home.”

 

“Fanks,” he chugged down the pills and water, the awkwardness creeping back up on his face.

 

“It’s nothing,” Honey muttered. She didn’t quite meet his eye. A few uncomfortable seconds went by and she muttered something about getting back to work. “Maybe we could catch up sometime soon.”

 

“Yeah, we should.”

 

“’Kay, then…well…I’ll see you around, Tussey.” And she left 2D alone in the room for a few minutes before he went back to the booth.

 

“What the— _where the bloody hell have you been_?” Murdoc shrieked at 2D the moment he appeared before the table.

 

“Toilet.”

 

“You mean to tell me that you’ve been in the toilet for the last—what fucking time is it anyway?” Murdoc was sloshed beyond all borders by now. The girls had gone and Russel was back at the bar with Cherry (unnoticed by Murdoc).

 

“’S 3 in the morning, Mudz,” 2D looked down at his phone. The bar was going to close soon and Murdoc was close to passing out on the table, belting out 'Broken' lyrics to absolutely no one. Russel and Cherry were very deep in a conversation at this point. 2D had been relatively ignored. “Eh. Fuck it.” 2D left the lot and hailed a cab back home.


	3. A Month Later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Small drabble-ish chapter...sorry!

After his reunion with Honey, 2D started looking forward to going with Murdoc to The Candy Bar every week. Even Russel had been going more frequently, but once Cherry came around to the table (and freeing herself from Mudz’ incessant flirting) he disappeared to the bar and Cherry would come by the booth less often. The only thing that remained the same was the rotting corpse that was the Gorillaz bassist. Same three sweets (who were growing bored of his stale jokes and lame stories they’d heard a hundred times), same bottles of liquor, same booth. Same everything…

 

It worked in 2D’s best interest to wait until Murdoc was pleasantly inebriated before he snuck off to visit Honey in one of the private rooms. At least this way, he wouldn’t follow him and have a go at her and interfering with their conversations. Plus, he’d brought a present for her and he’d never hear the end of it if Murdoc caught him being a bigger softy than usual. Honey confided in 2D that she purposefully steered clear of the table simply because she hated Murdoc. “He fucking reeks of death,” she scowled, “I mean how can you stand it, day in and day out?”

 

“Yew jus’ sort of get used to it,” 2D laughed, “though it ‘as gotten a bit stronger these las’ few years.”

 

Honey giggled at him, triggering that same blush he’d had from years ago. “Well, aside from that, I can’t forgive him for what he did to you.” 2D knew she was referring to his first time ‘meeting’ Murdoc and getting familiar with the front end of his Astra.

 

“’E did take care of me back then,” 2D shrugged, “and I’m alrigh’ now.” Honey rolled her eyes.

 

“Ok, but the last time I saw you,” her face fell as she reached to touch 2D’s face, “you had only lost one eye. What happened to the other one?”

 

2D’s blackened eyes met Honey’s blue eye. He couldn’t remember her much after the first time he had been maimed by Mudz, but he didn’t think she’d understand if he explained, especially since she wasn’t too keen on the Satanic bassist anyway. “Let’s not worry abou’ it righ’ now, ‘Oney,” he said giving her a soft smile. He took her hand from his face and gave it a gentle squeeze, “’Sides, our time is up. I’ll ‘ave to star’ payin' if I wanna sit an’ talk wiv’ you.”

 

Honey smiled sadly at him and nodded in agreement. She hugged him tight and went to get ready for her dance, taking the black dahlia stem he’d decided to bring her. Like always, 2D watched her intently as she swung around like some sort of stripper goddess. Rus returned a little afterwards, and he and 2D left Murdoc strewn among the bottles and glasses on the table.

 

As 2D prepared for bed, he turned out his pockets containing his wallet, phone, extra pills, and… “Hm? Wuz this?” A neatly folded square of paper he didn’t remember putting there stuck out of the top of his back pocket. He unfolded it and read the note:

 

‘ _Meet for lunch tomorrow? --Honey_ ’ and a cell phone number was written below it.

 

2D thought for a moment, not that it took much thought. And no one would be awake by lunch anyway. He could slip out unnoticed…but what did it matter? If there was any real need of him, the guys would find him. 2D pulled off his shirt and jeans and glimpsed at the alarm clock. It was a bit early for him. It was only 1, so he grabbed his phone and opened the texting app. 2D wasn’t known to be the ‘smooth operator’ that Mudz was (or claimed to be), so it took him a few tries to come up with something to say. “Wait, she’s me friend, not a random bird,” and he typed ‘See you tomorrow’ and pressed ‘send’.


	4. Honey's Dip in the Pot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tussey? It couldn't be... Her very best friend was here in the flesh after 20 years.
> 
> ...But does he remember her?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooray for Honey-dipping!

“Cherry? Cherry, love, where’s the screwdriver?”

 

“Check the bathroom, Honey!”

 

Honey limped into the bathroom to find a flat head screwdriver sitting on the already crowded bathroom counter. She’d been searching for it all morning, and hobbling around the flat while Cherry was getting dressed (not helping in the slightest) only made her resent the little metal tool even more. Closing the lid on the toilet, Honey sat and tightened the screws holding her prosthetic leg in place. While it wasn’t her favorite one, this one at least would get her around somewhat comfortably while she ran errands today.

 

“Did you find it?” Cherry peered in the bathroom, her customary dripping makeup looked particularly drippy today.

 

“Finally,” Honey groaned. She stood up to test the tightness of the screws, rotating her hip and bending at the knee. She winced a little, but otherwise it felt fine. “I’m going to the market today. Anything you want?”

 

“No, but don’t stay out too late. The handyman is supposed to come by to fix the kitchen sink and I’ve got a lunch date with Jenny.” Cherry beamed whenever she talked about Jenny. Honey shook her head, but smiled at her roomie all the same.

 

“Alright. Tell Jenny I said hello.” Honey went back to her messy room to get dressed. She rummaged through her drawers for that black Ramones shirt that she liked to wear when she was out and about. As she sifted through it all, her hand brushed against a blue t-shirt; one she hadn’t worn in years. She hadn’t worn it because it reminded her of him, of how much she truly missed him. But every now and then, like now, she liked to take it out and think of him.

 

Honey pulled out the shirt and unfolded it. It was a thin blue shirt with ‘The Human League’ emblazoned across it in yellow. The shirt was old, faded, and entirely too small, but it was the last concert Honey ever went to. It still smelled like the mosh pit mingled with some kind of faint cologne and cigarette smoke…it still smelled like him, even after almost 20 years.

 

She folded the t-shirt and placed it back in the back of the drawer. She hadn’t realized that she had tears in her eye and hastily wiped them away. Honey went back to getting ready for the day, carefully pulling a pair of faded jeans over her prosthetic leg and wriggling her ample hips into them, then went back into the bathroom. She looked at her face in the mirror, something she hated to see. At least half of it. On her left side, her light brown eye glittered back at her, her nearly faded freckles dotted across her caramel colored nose and cheek. It was the right side that irritated her.

 

Honey unwrapped the bandages that she wore at night. She leaned into the mirror to examine her eye closer. “Dammit,” she groaned. The thread broke again. She must’ve had another nightmare. She pulled the thread pieces out carefully and opened her ‘eye’. Honey never really enjoyed this part of her morning, looking at the almost literal black hole where her right eye used to be. She was a freak; an anomaly against nature. She never felt totally human, even as a child. She dabbed a bit of the medicated ointment onto the scars around her eyelids then covered it with an adhesive patch.

 

“Well, that should hold until I get back, at least,” she muttered. Honey dragged a comb through her short, curly hair, being careful to cover her patch with her lengthy bangs, applied a small amount of makeup to her exposed side, and left with her purse and keys.

 

Once she was outside, she dug into her purse and pulled out a black cigarette case and plucked one of her handmade joints from the pack. She deftly lit it and took a long drag on it, blowing the smoke through her nose as she went on with her day.

 

As she waited for the bus, a small girl seemed to focus her entire attention on her, as well as the other people waiting. Honey was so used to the stares but it wasn’t like it made her feel better. On the bus, in the market, at the post office…anywhere she went, people stared at her. Was it because of her eye? That she smoked jays? Her oddly shaped body? She never knew and it gave her a miserable migraine to be out in public besides while working. She puffed on her joint again, the effects finally kicking in. Now, Honey gave no fucks whatsoever. Her mind was on autopilot now as she completed her errands before lunchtime. She went back home and waited for the repair man, but he never showed, which gave Honey time to sleep before work. It was nearing 6:00 when Cherry roused Honey out of bed to get ready.

 

“Going to be a good night for tips, you think?” Cherry asked brightly. She was reapplying her drippy makeup in Honey’s vanity as she changed into her dancing outfit.

 

“Let’s hope.” Honey applied an extra layer of makeup to the exposed side of her face and adjusted the black wig on her head, securing it with a few pins. She popped in her blue contact and took a draw on her third joint since arriving at The Candy Bar. She was in her own world, the only person allowed being her roommate and friend. This was how things had been for the last few years. If she could spend her life being high and not care, she would. At least in her mind, she would have him with her. She could dance for him and him alone. She hiked up the garter on her right thigh to cover the screws there and went out into the spotlight.

 

_“C’mon! Please?” he begged again. Normally, he could get her to do just about anything, but this was pushing it. “I can’ skive off work this time and they open at midnigh’!”_

_“No, Tussey, I’m not sitting in front of the theater to wait for those tickets. Nor am I making you a fake medical card. Your mum will kill me, then you.”_

_“Ok then jus’ one of ‘em?” he asked. He clasped his hands together, his brown eyes pleaded with her, a toothy grin stretched on his face as he went back into a bout of ‘Pleeeeeeease!’ as if it would help. “Either one; a medicard or the tickets. Pretty plea--,”_

_“Alright, alright!” she conceded, “I’ll do one, but I won’t tell you which.” He suddenly wrapped his arms around her neck, nuzzling her hair. She could feel herself getting warm. “C’mon, Tussey, it’s not that serious.”_

_“Fanks, yew’re the bes’!” And with that, he released her and went on about his homework._

_Later that night, as she prepared for bed, she thought about what her friend had asked for. She was fully against the fake card. His mother probably would kill them both. But it didn’t seem necessary to her; his mother was the one to sign on her behalf while her own parents were out of the country on business, and as such, Mrs. Pot supplied her with medicinal marijuana to combat the glaucoma in her right eye. She would share with Tussey if he asked. What did he want the card for?_

_“Ouma?” she called down the hallway. Her elderly grandmother shuffled down the hall, fixing her glasses on her face as she leaned heavily on her cane. She hobbled into her granddaughter’s room and seated herself on the edge of her bed. “Hoe voel jy? How are you feeling?” she asked the elder woman._

_“Asook sal ek ooit wees. As well as I’ll ever be,” she chuckled, her sagging brown face dotted with black freckles curved into a toothless smile. Her granddaughter joined her on the bed, giving her a light kiss on her head. “Wat wil jy nou, my soet wind? What do you want now, my sweet breeze?”_

_She thought about what she needed to say. Her Afrikaans wasn’t as great as her grandmother’s and her grandmother’s English was…nonexistent. “Ek moet 'n bietjie geld. I need some money.”_

_“Vir wat? What for?” the old woman folded her hands on her cane._

_“Ugh, dammit, er… Ek wil om te…,um,  gaan na 'n…what’s the word? Concert?” she tried to tell her. She wanted money for concert tickets as she couldn’t access her parents’ account without Ouma present, but stumbling over her words might not help her anyway._

_“Wat gaan jy met? Who’s going with you?”_

_“Just Tussey.” Ouma might not know English, but ‘Tussey’ was nearly a household name as far as her granddaughter was concerned. She knew that name very well._

_Ouma nodded and dug into the pocket of her robe and unfolded a few notes, thought for a second, then unfolded a few more and handed them to her granddaughter with another toothless grin before shuffling out of the room._

_“That was easier than I thought…” She settled in her bed and dozed off to sleep. The next morning, she made a few calls and was able to get passes for the mosh pit. She stuffed them in his locker Monday morning, and for the better part of the month, she was his hero._

_Like usual, she met him at their secret spot beyond the high bushes after school, and they smoked a few joints while listening to a small handheld radio. “So what did you want the card for?” she asked him. He just took a draw on his jay and smirked at her._

_“Jus’ wan’ed to see if yew’d do it,” he looked over at her, his eyes bloodshot red. “I mean, we’ve been smokin’ this stuff since we were 13, why would I wan’ one now? Besides, Romy Milton bet I couldn’ get one so-- ow! Wha’ was tha’ for?”_

_She punched his arm as hard as she could._

_“I have half a mind to take the tickets back, you tosser,” she growled at him. He rubbed his arm where she’d hit him. “I’d have been in trouble with your mother, and my grandmother AND my parents!”_

_“Sorry,” he whined, “I dinnit think you’d make one. I jus’ wan’ed—OW! Wha’ the bloody--,”_

_“So I suppose you’d be going with Romy, or one of your other stupid mates then?” she frowned._

_“Well, on’y my bes’ mate.” He held up the second ticket to her, his hand shaking as there was not a lot of feeling in his hand presently. She looked down at the ticket, her face blushing. “Please? I won’ do it again, promise.”_

_She took a drag on her joint and snatched the ticket from him, turning away to hide the intensity of the blush on her cheeks. “You had better not be late, Tussey, or I swear…”_


	5. Three Weeks Later

Honey wasn’t the most observant of people, but she had been noticing that since they opened, The Candy Bar had already amassed a few regulars. There was a group of guys that came every week and sat in the same spot every time. They asked for the same three girls each time and, somehow, poor Cherry would always be assigned to their section. But it wasn’t their collective behaviors as it was the bloke in the beanie and sunglasses so dark she wondered if he were asleep. A long lanky thing, he was. But he seemed to enjoy watching her pole dancing, and Cherry didn’t mind him nearly as much. Once, she got close enough to see their faces, and immediately turned around. The green man in the middle (doing the most talking it seemed) looked a little too much like someone she would like to pound six feet into the dirt with her sharpest stripper heels. Therefore, Honey avoided the table at all costs.

 

As she got ready, Sugar came back to the dressing room searching for the Sundae girls. “Their master must be here,” Cherry grumbled, because it meant that she would be waiting on the same table.

 

“I suppose so,” Honey responded. It meant that the beanie would be there watching her. Sometimes it made her nervous to dance in front of him. She didn’t know why, it just did. She smoked her last jay and went out to perform.

 

Later when she and Cherry slumped into their flat, Honey made sure to take a sleeping pill or two. Cherry herself launched into a muddled and sleepy rant about one of the men from the group. “The slimy bastard. I wish he’d quit touching me!” she fussed.

 

“Maybe he _liiikes_ you, Cherry,” Honey laughed, “and who knows, maybe he’s a good tipper.” She doubted it though.

 

“Good tipper or not, he’s a worse pig than anyone I’ve waited on!” Cherry yawned, “I’ve had my ass slapped, my tits groped, and several ‘propositions’ from men with wedding rings that were more desirable. At least they didn’t…y’know…try it all at once.”

 

“What of the other two?” Honey asked as she threw off her heels. She wanted to ask about the guy in the sunglasses, but she didn’t want to sound like she was _that_ interested.

 

“The big guy is nice enough. Better conversationalist than his mate. Can’t get the guy to say two words, he’s so out of it most of the time he’s there.” Before long Cherry went to her room and her snores quickly followed.

 

Honey sat in her bed, waiting for sleep to take her over, thinking about that mysterious man. He barely spoke and put all of his attention on her, but not like other people that stared at her. It was like he appreciated what she did; he didn’t find her…odd. Finally having a comforting thought in her life, Honey settled under blankets and fell into a (relatively) calm sleep.

 

_“No, Dad, he’s not my boyfriend,” she said again. Why didn’t he get it? It’s not like he didn’t have a bunch of lady friends that he wasn’t married to. Her mother certainly wouldn’t appreciate that._

_“I have to ask,” he laughed at his daughter, “A 17-year-old young lady going to the movies with a 17-year-old boy ‘as friends’ is a bit rare, don’t you think?” Her father crossed his arms as he watched his little girl from the door frame as she put her money and house key in her purse._

_“No.” she said rather flatly. She grabbed up her jacket and brushed past her dad. “Where’s Ouma?”_

_“In the sitting room like always,” he shrugged and went back downstairs. She went to the sitting room to see Ouma and her mother conversing in quick Afrikaans that quickly stopped the moment she entered the room._

_“Hey! There she is!” her mother smiled widely at her._

_Ouma pushed herself up with her cane. “My soet wind! My sweet breeze,” Ouma hugged her._

_“Ready for your date?” her mother asked as she stroked her hair. She frowned, again, at her mother._

_“It’s NOT a date, Mum,” she said. Again. “It’s just Tus- er, Stuart. We’ve gone to the movies tons of times. Maybe if you were home more often you’d know that.”_

_“It’s not like we’re leaving on holiday,” her mother said, completely dropping her excited demeanor. “It is work and it’s for your benefit. Your expensive closet doesn’t seem to mind. I haven’t heard you complain about all the things you have.” Ouma groaned exasperatedly, shaking her head. She was much too used to this._

_“Because you’re not here long enough to hear it!” she yelled. She stormed out of the room and hailed a cab to her best friend’s house. She knocked three times and heard him bounding to the door._

_“Ready to go—wha’s wrong?” he asked frowning down at her._

_“Nothing. Are you ready, then?” She wouldn’t look at him. She knew she was beginning to tear up in her functioning eye. “The cab’s waiting.”_

_Stuart walked past her, muttering “Stay here,” as he went to the cab. She watched him talking with the driver and giving him something before he drove off._

_“What the hell, Tussey?” she flustered when he returned. “The movie starts in 20 minutes and it takes 15 to get there!”_

_“Shu’ up and come in,” he said. He led the way up to his room pushing aside the papers and notebooks on his bed. She followed him, fuming and confused, and perched herself on the edge of his bed. He pulled off his t-shirt, something she’d seen him do a thousand times before, and shuffled through his video collection before shoving a tape into the VCR. “Wan’ some popcorn?”_

_“What?” she said blankly. She was slightly distracted by the sparse, blue hairs on his otherwise smooth and lightly toned chest._

_“Pop. Corn. Do yew wan’ any?” he laughed. Had his voice always been this deep?_

_“Er…sure?”_

_“Is tha’ a question?” he cocked an eyebrow at her. “I’m making some anyway.” He tossed his shirt to her. “Shorts in the bot’om drawer.” And he left for the kitchen._

_She changed into his grey shirt and pulled out a pair of green gym shorts from his drawer, changed into them, and sat on the floor, watching the VCR rewind itself. Her friend returned with a massive bowl of popcorn and a six pack of soda, tapping ‘play’ with his foot on the VCR._

_“Kinda glad we stayed in, really.” Stuart snapped open a can of cola, “Cheaper tha’ way.”_

_“But Tussey, we’ve been waiting for this movie for ages,” she simpered, “we had this day planned for weeks.”_

_“’S alrigh’. Not like it’s the on’y showin’, is it? We can go some other day.”_

_Throughout the night, he never asked about why she was crying that day, or if she even wanted to spend the night at his house; he wouldn’t let her leave until he was sure she was ok. Eventually, she fell asleep to the sound of zombies and screams, her head in his lap as he snored loudly with his head lolling back onto his bed._

_The next morning, she woke up and her friend was still snoozing along. She tiptoed out of the house and took a bus back home. She crept in through the back door and found Ouma sitting at the kitchen table. She said nothing, but slid a note to her granddaughter._

_‘Gone for a month or so for work. Love always, Mum and Dad’_


	6. A Few More Weeks Later

Honey prepared for her dance some weeks after Cherry mentioned the regulars at her table when Sugar came to look for her. “Have you seen Cherry? Mudz is asking for her.”

 

“She’s running a few minutes behind, Sugar. And who’s Mudz?”

 

“The nasty, green bloke at table 20 with an apparently endless line of credit. Smells worse than the men’s toilets at a county fair. Anyway, when she gets in, tell her he’s been asking for her.” And Sugar left.

 

Honey peered out to the showroom. It wasn’t hard to find him. He was in the center booth, with Vanilla, Strawberry, and Coco. He couldn’t smell that bad if they could tolerate him, but upon closer inspection, Honey could see them tearing up as they talked to him. But she could also see that the mystery man was zoned out, staring at a point near the door. The bigger man that Cherry described sat beside him, apparently looking around for someone.

 

It all seemed strange. Stranger still was that Cherry wasn’t there. She had only told Sugar that she was running late because she honestly had no idea where Cherry was. She was about to call her when she walked in looking distraught.

 

“Cherry? Cherry, where have you--,” Honey started to ask, but when she had give Cherry a once-over, Honey noticed that her normally dripping make up seemed runny and nearly translucent. “What’s wrong, darling?”

 

“Jenny…s-she…” Cherry wailed loudly and handed Honey her cellphone. Honey took it and cleared the lock screen.

 

‘ _I’m sorry Cherry, but I don’t feel the same way anymore._ ’

 

“Oh, Cherry,” Honey sighed. Cherry fell into her arms and cried uncontrollably. “I don’t know what to say.”

 

“I don’t know what I did wrong, Honey,” she sobbed, “We-we’ve been together for years and I thought everything was fine and…and…” Cherry became so overcome she couldn’t continue.

 

Honey felt somewhat helpless as she patted her friend on the back for a few minutes. “Now, now, Cherry. I know it’s going to be a long, hard night, but we gotta get through this shift, ok?”

 

“Yes, of course, I’ll just clean up a bit,” Cherry wiped her face and started over on her make up in Honey’s vanity. Honey just couldn’t find the heart to tell her she’d been assigned to her least favorite table. Sugar would find her and tell her anyway.

 

Honey went on and danced for a few minutes, keeping an eye on Cherry. She wanted to help her, she just didn’t know how. Just when she was thinking of telling her to go home and let her take over her shift, Cherry was immersed in conversation with the big guy at the table. And was she laughing? ‘ _That was fast_ ,’ she thought to herself. But she smiled inwardly. As long as Cherry was happy.

 

It was nearly midnight and Honey was already exhausted. Three bachelor parties, a Dirty Thirty, and a birthday left her ragged and tired. She really needed a moment to just sit down and block out all the noise around her. Honey made sure Sugar was occupied and snuck off to one of the private rooms, only to find that it wasn’t empty.

 

“Cherry, love, d’you mind asking Rus— _oh_!”

 

Honey scrunched her eye shut. Did she forget she had yet another private dance here? She exhaled heavily and opened her eye, her heart nearly missing a beat as she saw who she was to be entertaining next.

 

The man with the dark sunglasses and a woolen, grey beanie sat there on the vinyl bench with a needlessly surprised look about him. She tried to play off her shock and summon the stripper she was a minute ago. “Oh, I didn’t realize I had a customer,” she said sweetly.

 

The poor thing began babbling some kind of nonsensical speech, but she went on with her usual way of doing things. She settled her toned legs on either side of him, catching his scent the closer she got to him. She breathed him in; he smelled like some kind of faint cologne and several packs of cigarettes and beer. Her eye twitched at the familiarity of this scent, but it couldn’t be him…could it?

 

A little banter back and forth (very little) and she could feel a steadily hardening bulge against her body. Honey had given him permission to touch her, and he tentatively ran his hands along her skin, triggering several nerves to detonate an old tingling feeling across her body. She was feeling hot now. And that blasted wool hat was making it worse!

 

“It’s a bit warm in here,” she cooed in his ear. He gave her a stupid smile and an equally stupid nod. “Maybe you’d feel cooler without that hat,” she reached to remove it and the man began to protest, but it was too late. Honey slipped the cap off, uncovering stunning azure blue hair.

 

Time seemed to have frozen around them. Honey dropped the beanie beside her and, as slowly as she dared, took his glasses from him. She found herself staring into identical, blank, black eyes. “ _No way_ …” she sighed, more to herself than to him. Without thinking, she called him by the name she had given her very best friend, “T-Tussey?”

 

He didn’t respond immediately, though something kind of like surprise crept up on his face. She tried again, “S-Stuart?” she said. Honey hadn’t said his name in ages, “Stuart Pot?”

 

“’S me.”

 

She couldn’t believe what was going on, and if she was reading his face like she used to, he didn’t believe it either. The stupid git. She smirked at him, almost out of reflex, “Don’t you remember me, Tussey?”

 

Again, he didn’t say anything immediately. Instead, he reached up and brushed aside the bangs that hid her defunct eye socket. Honey felt her skin blushing under his hand. She missed his touch… And then he smiled at her. A gapped smile, at that.

 

“’Course I do, I jus’—I can’ believe it! ‘S been ages.”

 

“It has,” Honey agreed. She slipped off of him and they and talked, her emotions getting the better of her as she hugged him tight until Cherry had entered the room, looking flustered as though she had walked in on something rather intimate. He said something about a headache and she had given him a couple of her migraine pills before going back to work with a permanent smile.

 

“Pretty good night for tips, eh?” Cherry said later that night when they arrived home, “You think your new attitude might have had something to do with it?”

 

“Could have,” Honey said simply. “Saw an old friend today. Hadn’t seen him in—,”

 

“ _Him_?” Cherry stopped counting her share of the tips to gawk at her friend. “Not _him,_ him?”

 

“Yes, _him_! We grew up together. He was my best friend and,” Honey’s happiness seemed to vanish from her face as she thought about what to say, “well, some rather unfortunate circumstances kept us out of touch for nearly 20 years.”

 

“Goodness, that long?” When Honey didn’t answer, Cherry scoot closer to her on the tufted rug and took Honey’a hands into her own tiny hands. “Was he really that special to you, Honey?” For the better part of the night, Honey filled Cherry in on the events of her life from the time she left his side to the time she met Cherry, herself, a couple years ago.

 

By the end of it all, Honey had her worst migraine yet, and, again, Cherry’s make up ran like a river. “So, he’s the one in the beanie that’s been coming all this time,” she sniffled. “I wish he’d have said something sooner.”

 

“Well, look at you, darling,” Cherry chuckled through her multicolored tears, “you probably didn’t look like this 20 years ago. I’m sure if he knew who you were he’d have said something by now.”

 

Honey thought to herself and agreed that Cherry was right. When Stuart knew her, she had just started to gain her womanly body, he couldn’t know what she had become. She thought back to her last visit with him; he was in a terrible state the last time she saw him...what happened to his eyes?

 

“Well, next time you see him, see if he’ll meet with you for lunch or something,” Cherry suggested, “it sounds like the two of you have some time to catch up on.”

 

“Yeah, we do…um, Cherry?”

 

“Hm?”

 

Honey hesitated for a second, “Are you alright? I mean, the thing with--,”

 

“Don’t you worry about me, love,” she said gently, “I’ll be alright. Just think about how you want to make up for lost time with your friend.”

 

“Ok. G’night, love.”

 

“G’night,” Cherry yawned and closed the door to her room. Honey followed suit, that blank space in her mind was suddenly filled with questions and excitement to see Stuart Pot. Just before she settled into bed, she took out the faded blue t-shirt again and hugged to her chest with a teary smile.


	7. The Next Week

Honey nervously folded the letter neatly at her vanity. He’d been coming every week for the last few months…what if today would be the one day he doesn’t? What if he says no? What if—?

 

SMACK!

 

“Ow! What the fuck Cherry?” Cherry clapped her tiny hands hard on her face. Honey rubbed the red, stinging handprints that were there, glaring incredulously at her.

 

“You’re over thinking this, Honey. It’s. Just. Lunch. What are you nervous about?” Cherry put her hands on her hips giving Honey a deadpan stare.

 

“I told you,” Honey groaned, rubbing her face, “it’s been years. I’m just afraid he’s forgotten everything we went through and all of our memories.”

 

“He’s been coming in to see _you_ , waiting all week to sit and talk to _you_ , for the last _month_ , Honey,” Cherry reminded her. “If he’s not talking to you about old times, what in blazes are you guys talking about in there?”

 

“I don’t know,” Honey shrugged, “Stuff? It’s not like we have a planned dialogue when he comes in.”

 

“I’m just saying,” Cherry sighed. She took her friend’s hands in hers, squeezing them gently, “There’s nothing for you to work yourself up about, darling. You’ll give yourself a headache and you don’t want to flake out on him after 20 years of not speaking. And besides, Honey, it doesn’t seem like he’d refuse.”

 

Honey sat and thought, nodding at Cherry, “You’re right. But Christ, Cherry, you didn’t have to slap me!”

 

“You were staring off into space,” Cherry smirked, “and you’re about to go on for him. Don’t wanna miss your cue, do you?” and she took her drink tray and left the dressing room.

 

It wasn’t like she was dancing for him, specifically, but now that she knew that Stuart enjoyed her dancing and visited The Candy Bar solely to watch her, she’d been adding a little bit of extra flair to her dances, earning her better tips from the other patrons. The stage manager called her name and Honey prepared to go on, trying to rub away Cherry’s hand prints.

 

At first she was worried that he wasn’t coming. She saw Murdoc and cringed, but Stuart wasn’t there. Honey only gave half the effort during her dance, but still managed to earn decent tips. As she was leaving the stage, Cherry was serving drinks to a group of men near the edge. She caught Honey’s eye to come down. “Honey, lovely!” one of the men called, “’S not me birfday, is it?”

 

“Reel it in, Thomas,” Cherry laughed, “Honey’s busy. She’s already got a caller in room four. She can’t be bothered with you lot.”

 

Honey caught on quickly (it was their version of wing man tactics, after all) and hitched on a smile. She leaned down to Cherry’s short stature, giving the guys a pleasing view of her breasts. “Take good care of her, guys,” she simpered, grabbing Cherry’s ample breasts and giving them a light squeeze, “These are my favorite.” Cherry gave them a sly wink as Honey left, slipping her the note she wrote to Stuart. It was also their best tip tactic…

 

Honey tucked the note into her scant covering of a top, took a deep breath and slid open the door of room four to see a tall and lanky frame standing in the middle of the room, no woolen beanie, no dark sunglasses, just a familiar smile and…

 

“What’s this?” she asked him. He stretched his slender arm, offering her a stunning black dahlia.

 

“Jus’ a lit’le somefink,” he blushed, “’S been a long time, bu’ I fink their your favorite.”

 

It was her turn to blush as she took the flower, brought it to her nose and inhaled its luscious scent. “Tussey, you actually remembered?” she sighed into her flower. He just scratched his head, smiling at her. That dullard. “You’re so sweet, and I don’t have a thing for you.”

 

“’S alrigh’,” he said, sitting on the vinyl seat, Honey sitting beside him. As they had been, they just sat and talked, Stuart joking and laughing as usual. She’d asked about his eye towards the end of their visit, but he didn’t seem to want to talk about it. Before he left, Honey slipped the note into his back pocket as she hugged him tightly, not wanting to let him go.

 

“How’d it go?” Cherry asked as they went home that night.

 

“It was…” Honey began, but her phone buzzed loudly in the bottom of her purse to remind her that she had a message from earlier. She located the phone and cleared the lock screen, read the message, and smiled.

 

“I’ll take that as a good sign,” snickered Cherry.

 

Cherry and Honey immediately turned in for bed. Once Honey was in her thin shirt and a fresh pair of panties, she placed the beautiful dahlia on her dresser and made sure to save the number Stuart sent the message from, of course under his nickname ‘Tussey’. She attached her charger to its designated port and set the phone down, noticing that the bottom drawer was open a crack, a piece of blue material poking out of the top. Honey bent down and pulled the concert tee from it. For the first time in years, Honey attempted to put the shirt on, breathing in that sweaty, cigarette-y, cologne-y scent that brought that particular night to the forefront of her mind as she brought it over her head, pushing it over her large breasts and tugging it down to just above her navel. It felt snug, like he was standing behind her, hugging her tightly.

 

“It’s not horrible,” she said to her reflection in the mirror, “but I remember it fitting better.” Honey’s phone buzzed, signaling an incoming text. She picked it up and blinked at it. It was from Stuart. She cleared the lock screen wondering what he was doing awake this late. ‘What sounds good for lunch?’

 

‘I’m up for whatever LOL’ she typed back. A second buzz and Stuart returned the message.

 

‘Pizza?’ he asked, ending the line with an embarrassed emoji.

 

‘Sounds great!’ she returned, but hesitated before pressing send. ‘Are you going to be awake for a bit?’ she added to her message, then sent it off.

 

Honey bit her lip, hesitating. She wanted to hear his voice again, but was calling him at 4am being too eager? She’d called him way later back in the day, and he was always awake, for whatever reason. But it’s been so long--.

 

“ _Oh Stylo… Go forth, blossom in your soul… When you know your heart is light… Electric is the love…”_

Honey’s phone rang loudly and saw that ‘Tussey’ was illuminated on the screen with the generic picture above it. Her heart raced as her finger hovered over the answer button. “It’s just Tussey,” she told herself, “nothing to be worked up about.” She slid her finger across to answer it. “H-hello?”

 

“Oh, sorry, did I wake yew?” he flustered, “I-I’m sorry, I’ll jus’--,”

 

“No, it’s alright, Tussey,” she told him, grinning to no one but herself, “I’m awake. I haven’t been home for too long. What are you doing awake?”

 

“Me? Oh, er, jus’ couldn’ sleep, I guess,” he forced a nervous laugh. “We was textin’ an’ I though’ it’d be easier to make plans for lunch by talkin’. Is tha’ alrigh’?”

 

“Of course,” she said softly. They sat up for the next four hours talking about everything they could think of. By the time either of them were tired enough to hang up, the sun had started to rise, filling Honey’s room with a faint orange glow.

 

“Per’aps we should get a lit’le sleep,” he said sleepily, “we won’ ‘ave anythin’ to talk about la’er.”

 

“Yeah, maybe we should,” she yawned, “I’ll meet you there in…” she checked the time next to the red flashing battery, “4 hours.”

 

“See you then.”

 

Honey hung up and placed the phone back on its charger. She unscrewed her prosthetic leg and settled under the blankets, again, deeply inhaling the scent of Stuart Pot, closing her eye and falling asleep peacefully.


	8. The Next Day

 

Honey slept until 11:00, showered and changed within 20 minutes, then spent the remaining 40 watching the time snail closer to her lunch date with her old friend. She couldn’t make heads or tails of herself. Was she excited? Nervous? Scared? She didn’t know. Deciding that having a stress headache before she left would be a bad thing, Honey made herself a cup of ‘tea’, and attempted to de-stress by clicking on the stereo over the TV.

 

_You can get addicted to a certain kind of sadness_

_Like resignation to the end, always the end_

_So when we found that we could not make sense_

_Well you said that we would still be friends_

_But I'll admit that I was glad that it was over…_

“Really?” she muttered to herself. How appropriate. Honey drizzled her namesake into her cup, listening to Goteye completely mull her over, thinking to the time she spent away from him and how she made herself cope with the separation…and the thought that he could have forgotten her, or that his condition could have worsened and she’d never see him again.

 

_But you didn't have to cut me off_

_Make out like it never happened and that we were nothing_

_And I don't even need your love_

_But you treat me like a stranger and that feels so rough_

_No you didn't have to stoop so low_

_Have your friends collect your records and then change your number_

_I guess that I don't need that though_

_Now you're just somebody that I used to know…_

That’s how she forced herself to live. Honey lived a part of her life as if he never existed, if not to make her feel better. But when she came back to London, every bit of his memory flooded back to her, plunging her into a deeper darkness until she came across Cherry. While she was a wonderful friend and helped Honey get back to her somewhat normal self, there was still a gaping hole someplace that couldn’t be filled. And now, seeing him alive and (relatively) well, Honey felt like Stuart was just that—a memory. And perhaps she was to him, too. Because even though they spent time together…

 

…he never called her by her actual name…

 

Honey finished her tea and headed out to the pizza joint he suggested, hitching a fake smile as she located him near an old jukebox. Stuart seemed genuinely glad to see her, and she supposed that she was too, but still…

 

The hostess showed them to their table and took their drink orders, casting an odd look at Stuart; a strangely flirtatious look that Honey somehow didn’t approve of, especially since the girl looked to be barely out of high school. “I never would have pegged you as a cradle robber, Tussey,” she said trying to sound casual.

 

“Trus’ me, I’m no’,” he laughed, “’S been tha’ way since we took off.”

 

“We?”

 

“Me band? I woulda though’ yew knew by now,” Stuart frowned at her over his menu.

 

Honey blushed furiously. Was she supposed to know that? Truth be told, she didn’t get out a whole lot. With the kind of work she did, Honey was grateful for silence and sleep after a long night, but being a dancer, she was expected to keep up with hot music trends, at least a little. And for that, she depended on Cherry. Other than what was introduced to her, Honey may have just told him flat out that she lived under a rock.

 

Stuart took out his phone and opened a music app and played a random song.

 

“ _Oh Stylo… Go forth, blossom in your soul… When you know your heart is light… Electric is the love…”_

 

Honey automatically reached for her phone, but the screen was black and the device was motionless. Confused, she glanced over at Stuart’s phone, playing the familiar song that Cherry loaded onto her phone ages ago. He stopped the song and sang the next line to her:

 

_“When the mako flies… up from the bottom in your eyes… Then I know the twilight skies… are not so broken hearted…”_

He sounded too exact to be simply singing for the hell of it. Honey’s one eye was wide with shock. “Th-that, _that,_ was you?”

 

“Yew really dinnit know?” he cocked an eyebrow at her. Honey couldn’t even look at him. She didn’t know a blessed thing about him anymore! “Where’ve yew been all this time?” he asked.

 

She didn’t want to tell him. To talk about it was to make her relive those lost days. “It’s a long story, Tussey. One I don’t particularly care to tell, really.”

 

“Well tha’s not cricke’, ‘Oney,” Stuart said in a hurt tone, “I though’ we wuz friends. Yew never kept secrets from me.”

 

“Because being famous and skulking around without saying anything to me for months is cricket, isn’t it?” she glowered at him, crossing her arms.

 

“’Ow wuz I suppose to know who yew were? Yew don’ look like ‘ow I las’ saw yew! All tits and ass, who was I supposed fink yew were ‘sides another stripper?”

 

Honey stared at him in shock. “Wow,” was all she could manage to say. Stuart, realizing what he had said, blushed stupidly, pursing his lips like an idiot. ‘ _This was a mistake_ ,’ she thought to herself as she slipped her phone into her purse and slid out of the booth to leave. She could feel a tear well up in her eye, but she brushed it away. As she brushed past him, she felt his long fingers close firmly around her wrist.

 

“I-I’m sorry, I dinnit mean nuffin’ by it,” he said sadly, “Please si’ down, stay wiv me. Please?”

 

Honey looked down at his blank, black eyes. He seemed sincerely sorry, with the same little pout that could guarantee almost anything from her. Begrudgingly, Honey took her seat across from him again. Stuart smiled sheepishly.

 

“I’m sorry,” he said again, “I jus’ would’ve though’ yew knew tha’.”

 

“Excuse me for insulting your celebrity status, I’m sure,” she snapped.

 

Stuart shrugged, “S’pose I deserve tha’.” He scratched the back of his head, embarrassed. “Bu’ I really did wonder wha’ ‘appened to yew. Yew jus’ were gone when I came to, and no one knew where yew went. I was worried for along time. Murdoc tol’ me yew came by ev’ry day to check on me.”

 

“I went to make sure he wasn’t shirking his court order,” she told him flatly, though she really couldn’t hide the smile on her face as she remembered the many times she berated Murdoc when she caught him trying to sneak out.

 

Stuart couldn’t suppress his smile, but it faded as quickly as it had come. “Bu’ really, ‘Oney, wha’ ‘appened? I wuz worried sick. I though’ yew forgo’ me. Why’d yew leave? ‘Ave I done somefink wrong?”

 

Stuart was really not playing fair now. Besides calling her by her stage name (not her birth name), he was giving her a pitiful face that she couldn’t refuse. The waitress brought them their beers and, sensing the tension around the table, scuttled off, mumbling that she’d be back later.

 

Honey took a sip of beer, heaving a sigh. She really didn’t want to do this. “First of all,” she began shakily, “I didn’t leave on purpose. I was kidnapped.”

 

Stuart spluttered into his pint, “By who? Why?”

 

“I can’t tell you who or why,” she said, “at least not here. I can only tell you what happened after they took me.” Honey mustered up her courage to think on those lost years, her eye already welling up as she thought about it.

 

Stuart reached across the table, his hands outstretched, expecting her to take them. She placed her hands in his and he gave them a gentle squeeze. “I was kidnapped by certain extremists and used as a sex slave for about a year. I had been so abused that when I was finally free, it was like I had never functioned in public.”

 

Stuart’s face, as hollow and dark as his eyes were, could only be described as pure shock. “’Ow’d yew get free?” he asked.

 

“I… snuck onto a cargo truck, then a cargo train headed for South Korea.” Honey wiped her eye on her forearm, refusing to let go of his hands. “I wandered around there, homeless and getting sicker by the day because of my eye. I was on a bus one day and there was a terrible accident and, well…” she knocked on the hollow of her prosthetic leg with her knuckle. She was almost numb to the ‘thunk, thunk’ sound it made. “I had overheard some shady looking men talk about this doctor in Japan that dabbled in the black market selling human organs and made my way there, just to see if he could help.”

 

“An’ did he?” Stuart asked, completely absorbed in her story.

 

“Couldn’t get something for nothing,” she muttered darkly. “I was back to being a sex slave in exchange for medical treatment, but at least I was getting the attention I needed. I was out getting groceries when this little girl ran past me, a funny looking doll in her hands. I dropped all the peaches I had in my hand. Her dad came up behind her, shouting “Gomen'nasai!” as he ran after her. He shouted for her to come back and apologize. “She can be a handful,” he said. The little girl handed me the peaches I dropped, but not all of them. She kept one. When her father caught her, he made her return it. I let her keep it. It was just a peach.”

 

“Wha’s so special about ‘er?” Stuart asked, “Did she do somefink to you?”

 

“Well, not her, specifically, but her father; or who I mistook for her father. He asked me about my eye and leg and I told him what happened and the situation I was in. He offered to help me since he was working on a project that required the help of a lady.”

 

“Did he--?”

 

“No. I thought he meant it too, but he just needed a maid to clean around his labs.” Honey shifted in the vinyl booth; she was feeling lighter somehow, as if talking to Tussey about the hell she’d been through made her feel better. “I stayed there and worked for Mr. Kyuzo, and he re-repaired my leg, giving me a better prosthetic than before. My eye, however, was beyond saving. At least for me.”

 

“Wha’?” Stuart gasped, “So, wha’ did ‘e do?”

 

Honey heaved a heavy sigh. “Come over here,” she motioned to him. Stuart rounded the table and slid in next to her. Honey peeled away the patch that covered her eye, hearing Stuart squeak a bit when he saw what became of his friend’s eye. There was an empty socket where an eye should have been, several scars were slashed across the skin where her eyelids should have been. Stuart reached up, gently running his finger along the bone below her socket. “He had to remove it completely or the infection would have spread. The scars were from trying to keep the socket closed, but at night I had flashbacks to being with the extremists and the organ dealer, and I tore my eyes open every night.”

 

“’Oly shit,” he gasped. “So wha’ abou’ the girl?”

 

“I don’t know what happened to her,” Honey shrugged as she replaced her eye patch, “I never knew her actual name, but when I started working for Mr. Kyuzo, I saw her more often and she would always ask for or offer me a peach. I just named her Momo. Anyway, the project that Mr. Kyuzo was working was disbanded and he asked me to help him get Momo someplace safe. I immediately thought of London, and how I wanted to be home with you and my family. I remember hugging her tight and filling her backpack with candies and peaches as Kyuzo stowed her in a box and shipped her off. After she left, I figured I should be getting there as well, at least so she would have someone with her in an unfamiliar place, but I never figured out where in London she went. I wanted to find her, but of course I had to have another tragedy before that.”

 

“Wha’ else could’ve ‘appened to yew?”

 

“Ouma. She died a few weeks after I came back. I hadn’t heard from my parents when I returned and I didn’t see any sign that they had even come back since the last time I saw them. I couldn’t stay in the house; too many memories. I sold it and left Crawley and wandered around London, hoping to run into Momo. Instead, I ran into Cherry. She found me one rainy night and we’ve been stuck together ever since. She helped me get a few jobs, and when The Candy Bar advertised open positions, we both applied and that’s where we’ve been. So, here I am.”

 

Stuart whistled lowly. “Why dinnit yew come find me?” he asked, still stroking her eye. Honey bit her lip, the overwhelming need to burst into tears manifested into her crying uncontrollably on her friend’s shoulder.

 

“I couldn’t. I…I had been turned into a whore to scrape by and…I just couldn’t, Stu!” Honey sobbed into his Tazar Yoot t-shirt, feeling him pat her back softly.

 

“’S alrigh’, ‘Oney,” he said, nuzzling into her hair. “’ere, le’s get ou’ of ‘ere. I’ll get the pints. We’ll go do somefink fun, ‘ow’s tha?”

 

Honey giggled a little at him, “Like what?”

 

“I dunno,” he shrugged, “Wha’ did we normally do when we wuz bored?”


	9. Coalescence

2D sparked up his second blunt, giggling stupidly at Honey. When he’d asked what they usually did to combat boredom, he didn’t think her response would be so appealing. They holed themselves up in her room, smoking a few spliffs and laughing away listening to a few of the Gorillaz hits on his phone. Honey was fascinated, and hearing her approve of his singing made it that much better. Honey had asked about his parents and he had a brilliant idea to go visit them.

 

“Can we? I’d love to see them again!” she told him, leaning over her bed to put her face next to his as he sat on the floor.

 

“Sure. Tell yew wha’, we’ll make a ‘oliday of it. We can go to our old ‘aunts and ‘ang out like old times,” he smiled at her. Honey hugged him around his scrawny neck, rubbing her face against his stubbly cheek.

 

“I’d love that, Tussey—sorry, it’s 2D isn’t it?” she corrected herself with a sarcastic grin at him.

 

On his way home, 2D stopped to pick up the pizza he never got to eat. “One medium for the guys, and one large for me,” he chuckled to himself. Whatever kind of spliff Honey had made him ten times hungrier than any other kind he’d smoked. And he wasn’t totally sure, but the ‘tea’ she made him had some kind of secret ingredient that made him feel even higher than smoking alone. She even sent him home with a bit of it, telling him to mix a bit of butter with it before steeping, whatever that meant, and to drink it when he has headaches. When he arrived home, he pushed open the front door, stopping by the kitchen to grab a few sodas before heading into the living room and sprawling himself over the sofa.

 

“Mmm, what smells so good?” Noodle came from upstairs, dressed in her pajamas.

 

“Pizza. Wan’ some?” 2D offered. The little guitarist nodded, grabbing a slice and settling on the floor. “Where is ev’rybody?” he asked, though in all honesty it didn’t matter that much to him. He just wanted to make conversation.

 

“Russel’s been out most of the day, but I’m not sure where he went. Mudz went out not too long ago, said he hadn’t visited Winnie in a while, so I don’t expect him back for a day or two,” Noodle grimaced at the thought of who or what Murdoc could be doing in the old Winnebago. 2D gave a half sarcastic shudder at the thought himself. “I’ve just been enjoying the quiet, sleeping in and whatnot.” Noodle flicked on the radio in the corner, just to have some sound playing while they ate. “Where’ve you been all day?”

 

“Oh, me?” 2D said nervously.

 

“Yes, you,” Noodle snickered at him as she grabbed another slice of Hawaiian pizza. “Unless there’s someone else here that I don’t know about.”

 

“Oh, well y’know…jus’ out an’ abou’.” 2D could feel the warmth on his face as he thought about his day with Honey.

 

Noodle squared her green eyes at him, crawling over the table and getting close to his face. She breathed him in, and cocked an eyebrow at him, “Have you been smoking?” she asked, “Something besides cigarettes I mean.”

 

“Jus’ a lit’le, nuffin—wha’ the…?” Noodle had completely invaded his personal space, sniffing his neck.

 

“I smell…perfume on you,” she narrowed her already narrow eyes.

 

“I already tol’ yew, I smoked a bi’ of spliff today,” he scoot nervously away from Noodle, but she followed him to the very end of the sofa. “Dinnit wan’ to walk around smellin’ like it.”

 

“Mm-hmm,” her face broke into a mischievous sneer. “And her name is…?”

 

“W-who’s—,”

 

Noodle gave him an irritated groan, “The girl you were with, obviously! I’m not so stupid to think you’ve been out all day just to come home with two pizzas, smelling like a dispensary for women, and did nothing, or no one, while you were out on your off day.”

 

“I dinnit ‘do’ anyone, Noods,” he told her, “but…I did go see a frien’ of mine. ‘Adn’t seen ‘er in almost 20 years.”

 

“Oh! The person you were talking to last night?”

 

2D gave her a blank look, “’Ow do yew know abou’ tha’?”

 

“I heard you. I was going to the bathroom and I thought you were having a nightmare about pizza or something.” 2D gave her a confused look. “Don’t look at me like that,” she sneered, “all of your nightmares are weirder than most.”

 

2D shrugged in agreement. “Anyway, we wen’ out for lunch an’ smoked a bit at her place. Tha’s all.”

 

“And I’m supposed to believe that you just love the smell of ladies’ perfume now?” Noodle sat back on the floor, returning to her pizza but held onto her sarcastic glare.

 

“Well, she ‘ugged me a few times, plus she was cryin’ on me shirt, so…”

 

“You’ve been out of the sack for a while,” Noodle snorted into her can of soda, “Maybe you’re just rusty.”

 

“No, no, we dinnit do tha’. It’s jus’ she tol’ me wha’ ‘appened to ‘er since she’d been gone an’ it was’ too pret’y.” 2D’s blush faded as he thought about Honey’s story.

 

Noodle put down her pizza, catching her friend’s gloomy demeanor. “Well hey,” she said brightly, “I’m sure seeing you made her pretty happy. You’re a great friend, Two-san.” She beamed at him and he returned a little bit of a smile to her. Noodle and 2D sat watching old movies until a rumble at the door announced Russel’s return. He flopped beside Noodle and helped himself to a slice. “Where’d you go?” she asked him.

 

“Ran some errands,” he grunted. Noodle didn’t press the subject. There was nothing suspicious about Russel since Del had been exorcised; he just sort of existed. Russel sniffed at the air around him. “New perfume, baby girl?” he asked of the only girl in the room.

 

Noodle looked to 2D. He only shrugged; he didn’t care anymore. As long as Murdoc didn’t know, he might be able to hold on to Honey for a bit. Noodle launched into the story for him. 2D’s head was starting to throb dully and he was thinking of having a couple of pills and Honey’s special tea blend now that he had some food on his stomach. Russel looked over at the singer cradling his head, but didn’t say anything. Later that night as they all prepared for bed, the massive drummer stopped by 2D’s room and shut the door. “So? How’s Honey?”

 

2D just glanced at him as he swallowed two of each pill he had and chased it with ‘tea’. Somehow, he knew that Russel knew. He stopped asking how a long time ago and just accepted that Rus knew everything. “She’s alrigh’ I guess.”

 

“You guess?” Rus, asked. He took a seat on the vocalist’s bed, watching 2D move about his room.

 

“Well…” 2D went into better detail about what Honey had told him, her story and that he suggested that they go see his parents. Russel just listened, his white eyes focused on a blank space on the wall opposite him.

 

“I know ya’ll was friends back in the day, but I think you had a crush on her.” Russel rose from the bed, shuffling to the door, “You wouldn’t be so worried about her past if you didn’t. Ain’t nothin’ to be ashamed of, bruh.”

 

“’S not jus’ tha’, Rus,” 2D said, “Some other stuff sor’ of ‘appened in between and I feel kinda bad abou’ it.”

 

“Like what?”

 

“All sor’s of fings. An’ I can’ ‘elp but feel like I’m forget’in’ somefink abou’ ‘er. Somefink importan’.”

 

“If it was that important to her, I bet she’da told you by now,” Russel shrugged as he turned the knob on the door, “Don’t stress, little homie. You’ll give yourself an even worse headache.”

 

“Yeah, yew’re righ’ Rus,” 2D agreed. “Fanks for talkin’ wiv me.” Shortly after Russel left, 2D nestled into his bed with his phone, debating on if he wanted to call Honey. He hesitated with his spindly finger over the number. There was something he should remember, and it seemed really important that he did…at least his gut thought so. He put the phone down and let his drugs  and Honey’s tea do their thing. But what Russel said had some truth to it. If it were really that essential, he would assume Honey would tell him. With that comforting thought, he turned over in his sleep with a gap-toothed smile at the joy of finding his best friend again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter for this story...
> 
> ...and then there was SMUT!


End file.
